the Aftermath
by GStales
Summary: In the aftermath of Jude Bonner, Kitty Russell seeks the courage to live and love again.
1. Chapter 1

**the Aftermath**

Fan-fiction, not for profit.

The following fan fiction story is based on the Gunsmoke episode "The Hostage" (12/11/'72) written by Paul F. Edwards.

My very first attempt at writing fan fiction, the Aftermath, was originally written in spring of 1999, and could never have been accomplished with out the advise and encouragement of my good friend Bonnie.

**One**

"**Every **time you think of that woman-and what happened to her - you'll remember Virgil Bonner!"

The words echoed through Matt Dillon's head, until it was all he could think about. He picked up the report he'd been trying to write, crushed it into his fist, and threw it at the wastebasket in silent rage. He got up from his desk, walked to the window and stared out blindly at the street. Tension defined his body, like a rattler ready to strike. The problem was there was nothing to strike at - at least not for a man with a badge pinned to his chest.

Marshal Dillon was all badge, everyone knew that. He was of that particular breed of lawman who never let personal matters get in the way of doing his duty. Married to the job some called it, and he'd have been hard pressed not to agree. He'd pledged an oath more sacred than a sacrament. He'd sworn to preserve and protect, within the law. The law - a burning taste worked its way up the back of his throat and he tried to spit it away to no avail.

Jude Bonner's words had proven a curse. The very core of him was shaken, always a man of action, this was one crime Matt Dillon was helpless to resolve.

The jangle of Texas spurs on the boardwalk outside signaled Festus Hagen's approach, the door opened and closed. Dillon remained motionless, his face set in granite, his stare fixed. The deputy cautiously approached him. He went squinty eyed, trying to take a reading of the Marshal's mood before relaying his message, "Judge Brooker said he's ready to see you, Matthew ... whenever you're a mind to."

Dillon gave an unconscious wince before he pulled himself together. He answered with a nod.

**When** his circuit rounds brought him to the area, Judge Brooker's temporary chambers were in the Dodge House.

Howie, the desk clerk pulled his eyeglasses in place to watch as Dillon climbed the stairs to Brooker's private rooms. A thin balding man Howie was a longtime observer of town life. He reckoned he knew the comings and goings of the Dodge inner circle about as well as anyone. He didn't like what he saw now; he shook his head and muttered, "Tske, tske," before going back to his perusal of the latest copy of Century Illustrated magazine.

**Judge **Caleb T. Brooker was seated before a table in the middle of the room. The scattered papers and files in front of him included written documents pertaining to the case of the State of Kansas v. Jude Bonner. The Judge was busy writing, but looked up when the lawman entered. "Matt. Good to see you. How are you doing?" the older man asked as he studied Dillon's shadowed face.

"I've been better," Matt replied honestly.

"I understand. Let me assure you I'll do everything in my power to keep Miss Russell out of this trial. To that extent we will be holding the procedures in Hayes City."

A fraction of the tension left his body. One of his greatest concerns had been that not only would Kitty be forced to testify - worse still she would have had to endure the circus-like atmosphere a trial this sensational would attract.

"I've read your report and Dr. Adam's description of Miss Russell's injuries. I really have no further official questions." Matt nodded his thanks, and as he turned to leave the Judge asked, "How is she doing?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face the older gentleman. The sadness was so apparent in his eyes that the Judge frowned.

"She's recovering from her injuries - we almost lost her. She developed an infection and then pneumonia. But she's..." he couldn't finish the sentence. Kitty wasn't better. He felt like he was losing her more and more each day. He looked down at the Stetson in his hand, fingering the rim. He waited for the words to come but they wouldn't.

The Judge examined Matt for a moment, before looking back to the document in hand. Brooker's own memories of his late wife Sarah had been stirred by Kitty Russell's tragedy. He wanted to offer advice to the younger man, but he was afraid it wouldn't be welcomed. Dillon had always been such a private person when it came to his personal affairs. `_Just as well_,' the Judge decided, for even a brief reflection to his recollections was painful. In the end he said only, "Well ... these things take time, Matt. She's been through a lot."

"Yeah," Matt agreed. "Well, thank you Judge." He turned and left the room without another word.

The Judge stared at the closed door for a moment feeling the pang of his own deep emotional ache. The hurt, which had dulled over the years, had become acutely painful again. Reaching a decision, Brooker stood and put on his hat and grabbed his walking stick.

**Dr. **Galen Adams was sitting at his desk filling pills. It was a tedious job, which he detested and one that required his old eyes to strain with the effort. Nevertheless it fell to him to do. As he worked, he passed the time giving thought to his friends Matt and Kitty as they each tried to cope with Kitty's recovery. Knowing he had exhausted every medical tool available to him, the seasoned physician had decided to pay a call on Judge Brooker just as soon as he'd finished his chore. He figured between their two old brains they could perhaps come up with a fresh idea. He looked up over his spectacles when he heard the door open. "Why, Judge Brooker!" he said in surprise. "Come in! I've been planning on having a little talk with you. How about some coffee?"

As Doc poured the steaming coffee, the Judge eyed him sheepishly. "I suspect you know why I'm here Dr. Adams ... Doc?"

"You talked with Matt," he answered astutely.

Brooker nodded. "You might say we talked - although - neither one of us said what was on our mind. This kind of thing is hard to talk about. But I could tell from just one look - you know it's killing him." He paused and then added. "How well I remember."

"They're both struggling with this, Judge. In some ways this has been as hard on Matt as it is on Kitty. She's sinking into a deep depression and he's powerless to help her. He has always been there to rescue her - but not this time. If you could just talk to him about you and Sarah - how you finally found your way back to each other ... I think it would give him some hope."

"Like I said, Doc … it's hard to think about - much less talk about. But if you believe it will help. I'll give it a try." To the physician, the man's inner pain was audible in his voice.

**An hour **later Judge Brooker sat at the worn worktable in the U.S. Marshal's Office. He took a sip of the coffee Matt had offered him. Unlike Dr. Adams coffee, this brew had the consistency of something scraped off the Arkansas River bottom and undoubtedly tasted even worse. Dillon sat across from him, clutching his tin mug of coffee as if bracing himself for a blow. Both men sensed the other's discomfort and wished they were anywhere but where they were. They knew the words they were about to exchange would be as painful to say, as they were to hear. After an uneasy silence the Judge ventured, "Has Kitty talked about what happened?"

"No." Matt stood and moved towards the window with his back to the Judge. "She can't and I won't force her. I just want her to forget this ever happened, and go back to the way things were before …"

Both men were quiet and the silence was awkward as each waited for the other to say something. After several uncomfortable beats the Judge asked, "Do you remember Mrs. Brooker?"

He gave the Judge a quick glance before returning to his blank appraisal of Front Street, "Of course, Judge. She was a fine woman."

"I've never spoken about this to anyone - although it's not a secret what happened all those years ago - some ways it seems like it was just yesterday she was taken captive by those Sioux renegades - we searched for her for months. I thought I would lose my mind with the worry and hate I felt."

Matt Dillon gathered his courage and turned to face Brooker, feeling a new sense of kinship for what the other man had endured. The Judge ran a shaky hand over his eyes and then continued, "when we finally found her - well - Sarah wasn't the same. You see, what happened, what they did to her - it changed her. I remember she had nightmares that would send her screaming into my arms, only to discover she was in my arms. Seems that was the last place she wanted to be." He studied the coffee for a moment, "everything would be fine for one minute - and then out of the blue something would happen. She'd either hear something, or see something, and the whole thing would flash through her mind. She once told me there was no way she could escape what they done to her, it was always there." He paused again and swallowed hard. "She didn't want anything to do with me - that's for damn sure. It was like she was afraid of me. Afraid of me, for God's sake!" All these years later he still found it hard to understand. "For a long time - I just didn't know what to do. I walked on eggshells around her. Like you, I just wanted her to forget about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. But, she couldn't forget and she couldn't pretend. Then it came to me - I decided maybe I should try courting her again, kind of like starting over - fresh."

"What are you saying?"

"I had to make her remember what it was like between us - before all of it happened -what we were like together. I had to make her ..." the Judge hesitated, trying to find a delicate way of explaining, "... want me as much as I wanted her." He turned and looked directly at Dillon. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Matt nodded, his eyes narrowed and some of the grief lifted from his face.

**He** stood at the swinging doors of the Long Branch Saloon. He knew right where she would be - always at the far end of the bar, her bookkeeping forming a fortress in front of her. `_By golly, she's beautiful - but so thin now_,' he thought. She reminded him of a statue he had seen once - hard and cold - nothing of the soft prettiness his mind and body craved. He wanted that Kitty back. She seemed to instinctively know he had entered the saloon, for she looked up. The smile on her face did not reach her eyes. It was her eyes, which told the real story. The fear seemed ever present in them.

"Hello Matt, can I buy a beer?" she asked as he approached her end of the bar. The scar on her cheek had faded, and she was expert enough with makeup to make it almost invisible, but he knew it was there, and it brought Virgil Bonner's prophecy back to mind.

"No thanks. I just wanted to let you know, I talked with Judge Brooker. The trial is going to be up in Hayes. There is more than enough evidence against Bonner, so there's no need for you to testify."

She breathed a sigh of relief, but said nothing. He noticed the strain in her body lessened. He decided it was time to implement Judge Brooker's advice - such as it was. "Kitty," he smiled. "How about a picnic? We could ride out to Silver Creek this afternoon. I'll stop by Delmonico's and have them pack a basket?"

"I don't know. I have a lot to catch up on here," Excuses, she had a lot of excuses lately.

"Look, Kitty - I'm not going to make any demands on you. It'll just be a nice picnic - a chance to get out a little and enjoy the sunshine," he coaxed.

She shook her head and retreated a step, "No, I don't feel up to it. Maybe some other time." Her spine straightened slightly in defiance.

Matt leaned forward on the bar and looked squarely into her eyes. "I'm not taking "no" for an answer, This will do you good ... and I promise ... you don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to."

**For** every relationship there is a special place - a safe haven, where lovers go to relive the past, enjoy the present and look towards the future. For Matt and Kitty, Silver Creek was that sanctuary.

The late summer day was beautiful; the kind from which memories are formed. He had brought the fishing poles and so the two of them sat in silence on the blanketed bank of Silver Creek, each with their own thoughts.

Matt recalled the sweetness of the first picnic they had shared, He remembered the blue ribbon she had tied in her hair, and how he had taken it from her. He knew she would be surprised to know he still had that ribbon.

He smiled broadly at the thought.

The memories running through Kitty's mind were not sweet, for it had been a day just like this two months earlier when she had lay on the ground trying to fight off the Dog Soldiers. Just the thought of it made her flesh crawl and she fought to suppress the urge to scream.

Matt was true to his word. He made no demands and gradually, he felt her hard contours soften. They hadn't had so much as a nibble on their hooks, but Dillon didn't care. He had Kitty beside him and for now - that was enough. The bite on her line took them both by surprise. He offered advice, "Work the line, Kitty! Easy … easy … that's it, now pull him in!" The big catfish was a warrior and Matt finally jumped into the creek with the net in hand and captured the fish. "By golly! You caught a real prize, Doc and Festus `ill be jealous!"

She watched as the fish struggled desperately for life. "Let him go, Matt," she ordered.

"But Kitty, he's a real keeper!" Matt reasoned.

Trapped by the net, the fish continued it's thrashing about and it matched the struggle going on within Kitty Russell's soul. She grabbed his arm, "Matt, please..." she begged.

He glanced at her. She was growing more agitated and he wondered what was going on in her mind. "It's just a fish …" he tried to pacify,

Something inside her snapped, "I said let him go!" she shouted.

He stared at her. It was as though he no longer knew this woman. He released the catch. As the freed fish swam away, Kitty turned and walked back to the buggy. "I want to go home," she said simply. She sat stiffly silent on the ride back, making sure her body was as far from his as the carriage seat would allow. At the door of the Long Branch she said, "Thanks for trying, Matt." She walked away and up to her room. No one saw her the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

**Alone** in his office that night, Matt Dillon tried to make some sort of rational sense of her behavior. Kitty had always been a complex woman for a man like Matt to understand, even on a good day. But her response at Silver Creek went way beyond his reasoning.

He shouldered the blame. As sure as there was a sun in the heavens, this was his fault. He found himself riddled by a time worn guilt. Somehow, if all those years ago - he had been able to say "no" to Kitty Russell none of this would have happened. If he had been able to tell her to find someone who could offer her a home and family - she wouldn't be suffering now. If ever a man had a weakness, she was his. But, by God, she was also his strength.

Matt Dillon kept a small strongbox in his safe in the office. The key was in his desk drawer. He knew the contents by heart, so he rarely felt the need to open the box. This night however, he sought tangible proof of the relationship he was trying so desperately to hold together.

He worked the key in the old lock until it released its hold. Slowly, with a sense of reverence, he lifted the lid. These meager offerings were the treasures of his private life. Inside a small threadbare silk drawstring bag was a small cameo of the `three graces' carved into a shell. The pin had belonged to his mother and she had placed it in his hand on her deathbed with the request he in turn give it to his bride. He'd always meant to give it to Kitty, but he never had. It occurred to him that perhaps even he harbored some dream of a life together after the badge. He picked up the broken pocket watch that had belonged to his grandfather, he'd always meant to have it fixed. He worked the mechanism that released the hinge exposing the face of the watch. The image of Grandpa Dillon came to mind instead. Next to the watch was a tarnished silver tipped bolo tie which his father had worn in the fight for Texas. Near the bottom of the box rested his first law badge, now rusted and bent. Under the badge was a cardboard-framed cabinet card with the likeness of he and Kitty smiling back at him. Kitty had talked him into visiting a photographer on a trip to St. Louis. He had mildly objected, but eventually gave in. He looked at the happy faces in the picture and remembered the joy of the trip. The picture, nearly ten years old now, had captured their pleasure in each other. Folded most carefully, was the object of his search – a blue ribbon. He sighed, as he allowed his memories life. She had been in town less than two weeks …

He had noticed her that first morning in Delmonico's. She had smiled at him and said, "Hello cowboy," as she walked by his table. His features softened as he remembered. She had been so young, but had been on her own for so long - had known so many men - that he wondered even now, had she ever truly known what it was like to be young? Kitty had taken a job at the Long Branch and soon she was the talk of the town. Every man from cowpoke to deacon wanted to get close to her and know her better.

He'd been totally smitten. She was constantly on his mind. He figured the only way he could get her out of his system and back to business was to have her. He had planned a picnic for just that purpose. He chuckled out loud now, remembering the boldness of youth, remembering too the blue gingham dress she had worn - with twenty-five tiny buttons down the front. Her thick auburn hair had been bound only by the blue ribbon. To him as he commenced the seduction, she became the most beautiful creature on earth.

She had given herself freely to him, but in that union he had found himself irrevocably bound to her. Over time, he'd learned that as beautiful as her face and body were, it was the heart and mind of Kitty Russell which ultimately captured his own. He held the ribbon between his fingers, feeling its satiny smoothness. Then, he tenderly refolded it and placed it back in the box. It would be another long night for Matt Dillon.

**If her **days were torture, then her nights were hell, for there was no escaping the demons who sought control of her soul. Their pursuit of her was constant and unyielding and she had nowhere to hide. Often she felt as one swallowed by a vortex. Swirling around in the whirlpool sinking deeper, sucked away from all she'd held dear.

During the day, she spent as much time as she could alone in her room. When she was working she kept so busy that no one could get close to her. No one could ask, "How are you feeling today, Miss Kitty?" _Feeling_. She hated the word. She was trying her damn level best not to _"feel" _anything. It was the only way she knew how to survive from one moment to the next.

All the pain she kept bottled up inside of her, exploded in her dreams. The nightmares were never-ending and always the same. She would awaken, drenched by sweat and shaking with fear, wanting to scream for help. Then reality would slap her in the face reminding her that as terrifying as the dreams were, the truth of what she'd lived through was even more horrific. She would sit trembling in her room, wrapping her arms about herself as if that lonely act could bring comfort. She would not allow herself the luxury of tears. Crying would be senseless she reasoned. No amount of tears could wash away her sins or the transgressions of Jude Bonner's men.

She had no appetite - the thought of food made her sick. Her clothing hung on her frame nearly as straight as it did from a hanger, her hair was dull, and she kept it pulled back in a severe arrangement, not bothering with curing iron or adornments. She knew she was losing her figure and her beauty. Most frightening of all ... she feared she was losing her mind.

In the deep dark hours of the night when she was so completely alone save for the demons of her nightmares she could do nothing but think of the rape. "A whore like you don't know no better, don't deserve no better neither," a greasy-skinned Dog Soldier had declared as he pushed his sated groin away from hers. "Trash, that's all you are woman … used up an' ready to burn."

She thought too, about Matt Dillon, and what this was doing to him. She knew she was hurting him and that knowledge added to her burden. Still, if he knew how Jude Bonner's men had taken the shattered shards of her soul and ground them to dust beneath their feet, how could he ever love her again - at least in the way he once had? There could be only pity for one such as she. She didn't want Matt Dillon's pity. That would be the final blow.

**She** was a creature of order, needing everything in its place. She had a disciplined mind and saw things as they were. She wasn't the type of person to dwell on _"maybe's_" and _"what if's_?" Kitty Russell had learned long ago to take what life served her and make the best of it. The nightmares robbed her world of order. The panic and fear, which filled her dreams, remained with her throughout the day. A look, a laugh - something completely unexpected brought the fear home once more.

She took to riding early in the morning, before most of Dodge was awake. She had found it impossible to get back to sleep after the nightmares came. The need to escape became so strong, that her old habit of an early morning ride seemed a natural solution.

Five years earlier, Matt had surprised Kitty with a horse for her birthday. He said he had chosen the strawberry roan because she had the same "color mane," as Kitty. He had given her ponytail a playful tug and grinned boyishly, "I just hope for your sake, she doesn't have a redhead's temperament!"

Now she crept as quietly as she could into the stable, careful not to wake Hank or Festus. The mare nickered a welcome. Kitty gently held the horse's muzzle trying to quiet the creature. The mare was a large horse and it took Kitty considerable effort to saddle her within the confines of the stall. She led the horse out of the stable and into the early morning sunrise to mount and ride out of town. She loved the feel of the powerful animal beneath her; she urged the mare into a full run, like a jockey, hunching herself low in the saddle until she felt one with the horse. It seemed to her if they went fast enough - together they could outrace the demons. She finally reined the horse down to a gentle lope and then into a walk. At last, she was back at Silver Creek and here she dismounted and stood looking up at the early morning sky. It seemed to her, if she could look at that blue long enough she could lose herself in its immenseness. A red tailed hawk soared above as if suspended in the firmament, Kitty envied his freedom. Tying the reins to a tree, she walked down to the water's edge, soaking in the peace and stillness of the place.

Two deer were drinking further downstream. They raised their heads in alarm and flicked their long ears as she approached, before going back to their breakfast. This place held so many wonderful memories - but the thought of yesterday's picnic came back to her with a transparency that hurt. She sat down on the bank determined to conjure up happier memories. Her thoughts drifted back to the first picnic she shared with Matt Dillon. She'd had no doubts about what the young lawman had planned that day. It was the same thing she had been thinking of since she had first seen him in the restaurant.

To the young Kitty Russell, sex had long lost any romantic worth. That illusion had been replaced by harsh reality. Life and a series of less than honorable lovers had taught her sex was something a man wanted and took, if a woman was lucky it was enjoyable. Kitty Russell was a smart woman. She had learned early on in life to use sex to her advantage and scoff at sentimentality.

She could count off the men who had deceived or forsaken her. Her father had declared he loved her mother, but he had left her with an infant daughter to fend for herself. Cole Yankton, whispering words of love - had taken her virginity and then disappeared. So many other men in her life had used her in the name of love and then left her. By the time she arrived in Dodge City, Kitty Russell had no use for love or romance. She had learned if you wanted something you had better take it before someone else did and never let "love" get in the way.

The physical pull to Matt Dillon had been strong from their first meeting. She had admired his broad shoulders, narrow hips and long, muscular legs. She had felt a jolt - just looking into his intense blue eyes. Willfully, she had used every ounce of feminine charm shepossessed to lure him. Picnic basket untouched, they had sat together on the banks of Silver Creek, their bodies rimmed in sunlight and their hearts in crescendo pounding. So tenderly Matt had removed the ribbon from her hair, the auburn tresses cascaded to her shoulders. As his fingers released it from the ribbon's constraints he whispered simply, "This is how I've imagined you." Their eyes and hearts locked in a silent communion. The power of his gentleness tamed her and - what had always seemed the most selfish act - became the most giving. She had looked at him with her eyes wide in wonder - for despite all the men she had known - this for her heart - was the first time.

**A noise **awoke Hagen from his sleep in the tack room at the stable. Upon investigation he caught just a glimpse of Kitty as she rode off in the early morning light. He felt duty bound to tell Dillon what he'd witnessed and a short time later, barged into the Marshal's Office with his report. "Matthew, she was ridin' like the devil hisself was a chasin' her. She shouldn't oughta ride that blame fast! And she dang sure shouldn't be riding alone at this time of the mornin'!" Festus reproached.

Matt sat on his cot and pulled his boots on, `_Damn,_' he thought. `_What nex_t?' He ran splayed fingers through his hair, grabbed his gun belt and asked, "What direction did she head, Festus?"

"Appeared to be west, Matthew - towards Silver Creek, maybe?" Festus had long been aware the location held a special hold over the pair. On more than one occasion he had been forced to interrupt their picnic for official business. "Hank's saddling your horse." He handed Matt his hat as the Marshal hurried out the door.

**It **wasn't hard to find her and he felt some comfort in the fact she'd returned to their place. _`At least she looks all right_,' Matt thought as he pulled in the buckskin's reins. He left the horse ground tied next to the roan and walked down to the creek to stand beside her. For the first time in his recent memory she looked to be at peace.

"Morning Matt," she said.

"Kitty? Everything okay?" he questioned.

A ghost of a smile lifted her lips. "I couldn't sleep. I thought a little ride might help."

"Did it?"

She nodded, "Yeah - I think it did."

He reached out to pull her close. He just wanted to feel the comfort of her body and offer his to her, but she stiffened and pulled away. She couldn't explain why, but the thought of being in anyone's arms brought back the sense of panic.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing," she lied. He tried again to pull her to him, but she fought him. "Don't touch me. Please, just leave me alone," she pleaded.

The look in her eyes reminded Matt of a green broke horse, ready to bolt. He began to speak to her just the way he would to any frightened animal, soft and low. "Easy now, Kitty."

She glared at his face, and then turned her back to him. She had an overwhelming urge smack him. How dare he talk to her like that! She felt his gentle hands take hold of her arms, trying to turn her towards him. That did it! She spun and slapped him with all of her might. Immediately, the horror of what she had done hit her as hard as the slap on his face. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth in an effort to quell the rising panic and ran stumbling up the hill to her mare. Matt stared after her in stunned silence, unable to move or think. He knew he should go after her, but for the moment he couldn't think of a good reason why.

**Festus** took one look at Dillon's face and decided not to ask any questions, wisely busying himself with sweeping out the cells. Gingerly, Matt shaved his face and scowled at the image in the mirror. Kitty's ring, which had been turned slightly towards her palm, had caught his cheek and had left its mark. He was going to have a bruise as well. He finished his cleanup and told Festus he was headed over to Delmonico's for breakfast with Doc.

**The cafe **was busy but Matt and Doc were too deep in conversation to take notice, their breakfast left virtually untouched. "What happened to you? Get into a fight with some desperado?" Doc had asked Matt as he joined him at the table.

"You might say that. Kitty slapped me!" Matt replied.

"What did you do to deserve that?" Doc asked in amazement.

Dillon gave himself a self-pitying grunt. "All I tried to do was give her a hug, Doc." He kept his voice low so not to be overheard at the next table. Doc leaned closer to listen. Matt's frustrated expression told the whole story. "I don't know what to do anymore. I've never seen her like this ... it's like ... well, it's like she hates me."

Doc absently stirred sugar into his coffee. "You know, as I see it ... this may be a good sign. She's starting to feel again. She's starting to come back to life. Kitty is dealing a lot of anger and that's only natural. You're the safest person to be angry with."

"A good thing, huh?" Matt sighed and raised a hand to rub his injured cheek.

"Matt, you've got to get her to talk about all of this." Doc continued.

Dillon shook his head. "At first, I tried to get her to forget about what happened - for her own good. She's always been so strong ... I guess I was just fooling myself."

Doc looked upon Matt with the eyes of a wise doctor and a long time friend. "I think I know how you must feel. You just want Kitty to know you care about her. You'd do anything in the world for her. She knows that."

Matt's eyes continued to express his pain. "Doc, let me tell you something - with this trial coming up - I'm afraid to leave town. I don't know what I'll find when I get back. I don't know how much more of this she can take."

"This thing is growing in her like a cancer, Matt. It's just eating away at her. I believe we must get her to talk about it - to talk about her feelings - it's like letting the air to an open wound, makes it heal faster."

Dillon replied somewhat doubtful nod.

Doc scratched at his moustache and was thoughtful for a moment before adding, "and one more thing - I don't think she's cried about this. A woman needs to shed tears."

"Yeah, I know."

**If** only he'd been more alert that night - he might have known something was going on before the Dog Soldiers hit Dodge City. Not a day went by that Festus Hagen didn't replay the events in his mind and not a night passed that he didn't dream about the incident. No one had laid blame at his feet, but Festus felt the guilt.

Considering the events of that morning, Matt had decided Festus would have more luck-inviting Kitty to dinner than he. `_Maybe_,' Dillon reasoned, `_with their friends surrounding them she would feel more at ease_.'

Eager to be of any help he could, Festus vowed to return to Delmonico's with Miss Kitty in tow. But it was harder than he had anticipated. "Miss Kitty, come on now - you've gotta eat. Come on now and join `ol Doc, Newly and Matthew and me," he urged.

"Festus ... I thank you, but I'm just not hungry." She was standing behind the bar drying beer mugs.

"Why Miss Kitty — you're gettin' plum puny. If'n you don't fatten up some, `ol Doc is gonna take to dosin' you with that spring tonic of his!" Festus cajoled.

She shook her head, "I've got some bookkeeping I have to attend to ... some bills I have to look over ..." She had finished with the mugs and was now wiping down the bar.

Hagen followed her progress, "Miss Kitty, ol' Matthew will be mighty disappointed if'n you don't come."

She put down the bar rag and looked up at Festus saying, "I think `ol Matthew has had enough of `ol Kitty for awhile..."

"Now Miss Kitty, you know that ain't true!" There were times when Festus spoke to Kitty as if she were a young child. Festus reached out and patted her hand. "Matthew just wants you all better again - like we all do. That's the pure `ol dee truth."

His sincerity touched her, "Well ... all right, Festus. I'd be pleased to join you."

**The **truth of the matter was all day long Kitty had been expecting to see Matt come through the swinging doors. When he hadn't she thought – maybe – she should go down to his office and apologize. There was no excuse for her behavior. How could she have slapped, him? He had never shown her anything but tenderness and concern. But so often of late, she had felt the need to strike out - to scream, to hit someone or throw something hard.

She wanted desperately to be held, to feel the shelter of his arms- and yet when he tried to embrace her she had lashed back at him. The thought occurred to her again - she must be going completely crazy.

**Right** from the start it was apparent her friends were determined to make this evening a special occasion. Matt was wearing his `courting jacket', a silver tipped bolo tie she'd never seen before and the blue shirt she had always claimed made him irresistible. To her relief, the mark on his cheek was barely noticeable.

She was greeted with warm smiles from the men as Festus escorted her to a chair. She took her seat and spread a napkin on her lap - keeping her eyes averted to avoid the look on Matt's face. She was afraid of what she would see in his eyes. When she did look up, he was smiling at her.

Festus was in a playful frame of mind, and Doc - trying to keep the mood light humored him. The good doctor surveyed the menu. "Well, what shall we order tonight? Say Festus! It looks like they've got those German sausages back on the menu?"

"Doc, I ain't gonna have none of them there sausages!" Festus stated.

"Why in heaven's name not? You made a pig of yourself the last time!"

"Well, that's what I'm a talkin' about, Doc. I've had this here pain in my big toe ever since!"

Doc was completely puzzled. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Why, `ol Doc! You ain't nothin' but an old quackety-quack quack if there ever was one! I got me **_toemain_** a'poisonin' from it!" Festus roared.

Kitty couldn't help but giggle. It was the first time she had actually laughed in a long time. Her friends all looked at her with spreading grins. Their expressions had more to do with her smile than with any humor of the situation. Matt saw the opportunity he had been waiting for. "You know Miss Kitty, there's a barn dance Friday night. I wonder if a certain redhead might be interested in going to it - say with a certain Marshal?"

Her smile froze. She looked at the eager faces around the table, all awaiting her response. She knew she couldn't let them down again. "Um ... you really want to go with me?" she asked. "Suppose I lose my temper again?"

Matt's smile was true. "Then I guess I'm just going to have to learn to duck." Their eyes met and for a moment, the connection was made. Later he had walked her home, not wanting the night to end. It had been a good evening and he had seen the first glimpse of the old Kitty in a long, long time. She'd even accepted his gentle goodnight kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, honey," he'd whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Sawdust had been spread on the uneven puncheon floor and it added a fresh piney scent to the earthy aroma of the Oestreich's barn. From the rough-hewn rafters hung bunting and crepe transforming the outbuilding to a crude but festive ballroom. The farm rested just on the outskirts of town and most of Dodge had turned out for the charity event. The Long Branch as well as the other Front Street saloons had closed their doors to encourage attendance at the sociable which was to benefit the Dodge City Aide and Assistance Fund.

Matt Dillon had never thought of himself as much of a dancer but tonight he couldn't wait for the music to begin and silently cursed when it ended. Holding her in his arms, even if it was at arms length, was like a small piece of heaven returned to him.

As figures on a giant music box, the dancers glided across the barn floor dipping and swaying to the melody of fiddle, fife and guitar. Amid the throng Matt and Kitty danced together as they had for over eighteen years, unaware of the envious looks from those who watched the tall handsome lawman and the beautiful saloon woman. To onlookers they seemed so perfectly paired, belonging to each other; both so strong of will and character that the rest of the town felt safe knowing there were folks like Matt and Kitty in their midst. Few would have guessed the inner turmoil the woman was fighting.

When the music ended she used it as an excuse to step outside. Dillon followed, "Can I get you something?" He offered, eager to oblige.

"Some punch please." She requested, knowing the line was a long one and it would take him a while to work his way through it.

After he left, she sat on a hay bale off to the side, partially obscured from view. From this vantage point she was a bystander to the life around her. School children were dashing about in the moonlight trying to catch fireflies and playing games of red rover and tag. Young lovers, oblivious to all others strolled up and down the lane exchanging kisses in the shadows. And over by the well, a group of old men had congregated and were passing around a jug of Oestreich's latest batch of home brew. She sat in the gloom observing their actions and feeling a melancholy sense of detachment.

The night was cool with the crispness of late summer in the air. She took in a deep breath and looked up into the star-filled sky. "Getting a bit stuffy in there, isn't it?" Bessie Roniger asked. Kitty jumped with a start.

"I didn't mean to scare you, mind if I sit down?"

"I'm just edgy of late." Kitty replied as she moved over to the edge of the bale to allow sufficient room for Bessie's generous bottom.

The farmer's wife lowered herself with a little grunt; she straightened out her skirt and asked, "How are you doing? I haven't seen you since Doc's place."

It had been Bessie Roniger who had left her family to help Doc nurse Kitty back to life. Kitty remembered the times she had awakened feverish and afraid, only to feel Bessie's cool hands on her forehead and her soothing voice assuring her everything would be alright.

Theirs was an old friendship that had begun on their very first stage ride to Dodge. Young Bessie traveling from her parent's home in Iowa was on her way to marry her betrothed, Will Roniger. They had been sweethearts growing up on neighboring farms and had always planned to be married. When Will headed west to start a homestead of his own, it was with the understanding he would send for Bessie when he was settled.

Kitty on the other hand, was a woman of the world, despite her tender years. The two young women each considering such vastly different futures had formed a friendship which had endured all these years. At the end of the stagecoach ride, as Will was putting her baggage onto his buckboard, Bessie had laid her hand on Kitty's arm and said, "I hope you'll decide to stay in Dodge, Kitty. I know we'll be best friends."

Kitty had been with Bessie when she gave birth to her first of ten babies. Although the saloon girl knew nothing about childbirth, she did her best to assist Doc and the very nervous Will. She had impressed Doc with her natural nursing talents. The old physician had winked at her and said she was in the "wrong profession." She had retorted back, "Not if I want to make money."

The public assessment of Kitty Russell in those early days was little better than a fallen woman. It was how most people looked upon any saloon girl. Even by her own estimation, Kitty knew her sins were considerable. But Bessie overlooked her lifestyle and profession to see the honorable decency that was the real mark of her friend.

Kitty never forgot how Bessie had befriended her at a point when she needed an ally. And even though her social status had improved over time, she knew without Bessie's support, her early years in Dodge would have been much more difficult. Kitty took special pleasure in the years that followed, making countless trips to the Roniger farm to help with the triplets and the other children. She brought dress goods, candy and other treats the children enjoyed. In return she was accepted as a beloved family member. Over the years the two women shared their joys, sorrows and fears.

Kitty smiled warmly at her friend. "Bessie ... I haven't thanked you for all you did, have I?"

"No thanks needed between us - you know that. But you haven't answered me! How are you … really?"

Kitty set her teeth on edge for a moment, hesitant to share her fears but needing the comfort a best friend can bring. "I don't know ... sometimes I think everything will be fine ... then other times ... I'm afraid I'm going crazy. The pain is more than I can bear."

"Pain?" Bessie exclaimed in alarm. "Have you talked to Doc?"

"Oh Bess, it's not that kind of pain."

She was quiet and then she nodded her head in understanding. "Then have you spoken to Matt about this?"

"I can't, not about this." She looked away and Bessie almost didn't hear her say, "I'm afraid."

Mrs. Roniger reached for Kitty's hand and squeezed it tightly. "You? Afraid of Matt?"

"Not of Matt really ... but what he will think. How he will feel - or won't feel. Besides, I think he wants to pretend none of this ever happened."

"Men are like that, I reckon its hard for them to understand the thinking of a woman, most times they see things in black and white, while we woman have the talent … or the curse to see the subtle shadings."

They sat quietly for a moment longer before Bessie asked, "Do you remember what you told me on that stagecoach all those years ago?"

"No."

"Well, it seems to me I told you how scared I was to be marrying Will. How I was afraid I would be a disappointment to him, and Kitty, you asked me, 'Is he a good man? Do you trust him? Do you love him? Does he love you?' and I answered, 'yes' to every one of those questions. And then you said the wisest thing, 'Everything else will just take care of itself.' And it did - you were right."

Kitty looked at Bessie in doubt. "I said all that?"

"Yes you did," Bessie continued firmly, "Now Kitty - here I am today and I'm saying to you - Matt is a good man. He's a man who loves you, a man you love. Kitty ... you can trust him with your life! Why won't you trust him with this?"

Bessie glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Matt returning with two glasses of punch. She offered him an encouraging smile before excusing herself by saying, "I'd best see what those youngins of mine are up to."

Kitty gazed up at Matt. What Bessie Roniger had said made sense. She knew she could trust him, so why couldn't she bring herself to talk to him about this? They walked a short distance together in the moonlight and Kitty slipped her arm through his and let her head rest lightly on his shoulder. He smiled down at her. His smile had always held the magic to melt her heart and for just a moment she found peace.

"**I should **be back in a few days, Kitty," Matt assured her the following morning over coffee at the Long Branch. Deep shadows etched beneath her eyes and her cheeks were hollow. Matt guessed she'd had another sleepless night.

"I wish you didn't have to go, Matt," she said quietly. He studied her face, and thought he would have done anything in the world to take this burden from her shoulders and carry it himself. The saloon was empty, except for Sam readying the bar for the day's business. He stood and grabbed his carpet bag. She looked up at him and he dropped a tender kiss on her forehead. "Try not to worry," he said before he turned and walked away. As the paneled doors closed, Kitty felt the panic rise within her. She fled to her room, tears stinging behind her eyes. From behind the lace curtains of her bedroom window, she watched Matt walk down to the train station. The urge to cry became a burning pain in her throat. She took deep gulping breaths and willed herself not to give in to the panic. She wondered how she was ever going to endure this next week alone.

**It was **not unusual for Jude Bonner to haunt Kitty's dreams, but that night he finally took possession of her soul. In her nightmare, Bonner was on the stand testifying. He described to the courtroom how he had raped her and when he was finished with her, had thrown her out of the tent to his men, '_like garbage to dogs_'. He looked at Matt and laughed. "_She's nothing but a dirty whore, you're welcomed to her, Dillon_." Bonner's malevolent laugh echoed through the courtroom, until they were all laughing - laughing at Matt and then Matt was laughing too. She woke up screaming, "No! No! No!" But there was no one to hear her screams. She was alone, so completely alone and empty. She saw the liquor sitting in the carafe on her side table. Without forethought she got out of bed and grabbed the bottle. Opening it she took a long drink, then another. The warmth filled her body. It seemed like she had been cold for so long now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

She was usually up by the time Sam came in to open the Long Branch for the day. He was not alarmed when he arrived to work and she didn't come downstairs to say good morning. Considering all she had been through; Sam assumed she needed a little extra rest. When Doc stopped by around ten that morning to check on her - and she still wasn't up -they decided to investigate. The door was locked, but Sam had a key. The two men cautiously walked in. The smell of liquor hung in the air of the enclosed room leaving little doubt what Kitty had done the night before. They found her on the bed curled around an empty bottle. Her hair was disheveled and her nightgown soiled. Trying to hide his alarm, Doc sat down beside her and gently patted her shoulder. "Kitty, don't do this to yourself."

"Go away Doc. Leave me alone - just leave me be," she moaned.

He swiped at his moustache and tried a different approach, "Come on Kitty, let's go have some breakfast. You get dressed and prettied up and I'll wait for you downstairs."

"No thanks, Doc. I've had my breakfast. It looks like I've got lunch and dinner here, too. So just go away. I'm not worth the bother. Just hand me another bottle before you leave."

"I'll do nothing of the kind, young lady! I've got too much time invested in making you healthy again to watch you throw it all away. Now get a hold of yourself!" Doc ordered sternly.

"Oh, go away." She got up shakily, pushing past the old man, to stagger to the side table where she found another flask. "I've got all the friends I need right in these little bottles -so just go away." She took a long drink and then stared at him defiantly.

Doc's eyes narrowed, knowing he was powerless to stop her downward spiral. "Alright - maybe you need this. Get it out of your system! I'll stop by later," he said.

"Don't bother. When I need you ... I'll let you know," she slurred.

Adams was shaken by what he'd seen. To his recollection, Kitty had never abused alcohol. She was a good drinker and could hold her own. As a saloon girl it had been a prerequisite for success. However, he had never known her to drink for the sole purpose of getting drunk. But now, just as Matt had feared she was out of control and Doc was afraid to think what she might do next.

**Two **more days passed before she finally surfaced from her binge. She awoke with a dry mouth and pounding head. Struggling to her feet, she made her way painfully to the mirror. The looking glass was full - length and ornately hand carved, having come all the way from St. Louis soon after she purchased the Long Branch. Studying her likeness in the mirror the first thing in the morning was an old habit, acquired from years of making a living on her beauty, and she'd always considered her reflection an ally.

Today, Kitty Russell stared in horror at the image she saw looking back at her. The face was of a woman hard and used. What had happened to her beautiful features and figure? She was reminded of an old prostitute she had known in New Orleans in her youth. "Looks like you've come full circle, Kitty," she said out loud. "Bonner had you pegged after all." The weight of depression settled upon her. She walked across the room to her dressing table, whiskey bottle still in hand. There she picked up the picture of a young Matt and Kitty. How simple things were then. Suddenly the contrast between the young beauty and the woman she had become filled her with a fierce rage. She spun around and hurled the bottle at the fancy mirror in a blind fury, shattering the glass.

**Kitty** remained in her room, but she didn't drink. The bottle she'd thrown at the mirror lay fractured and broken, shattered like her spirit. She kept searching for her heart, but Bonner had taken that and everything else she had to fight with. He had taken her self-respect, her dignity, and her honor. Like a discarded vessel she was empty.

**There** was a knock on her door. "Miss Kitty? I've brought your breakfast and the morning mail," Sam said through the closed door. Everyday the bartender had dutifully brought a tray up, and placed it before her door, and every night for the past three days, he had taken the tray back downstairs with the contents barely touched.

Only when she was sure Sam had gone did she open the door. She squatted down to study the contents of the tray. The smell of steak and eggs made her stomach churn, but she found the aroma of the coffee stimulating. She took the cup and grabbed the mail and went back into her rooms.

Amid the correspondence and business invoices was a parcel wrapped in paper and tied with string.

She undid the binding and ripped away the brown paper to reveal a well-worn journal, the pages were yellowed with age. A note dropped to the floor. Kitty bent to pick it up. In a strong masculine hand she read,

_"Dear Miss Russell, _

_I recently found this diary among my wife's personal possessions. I thought her words might be of some comfort to you, for she endured a similar ordeal to your own. I want you to know that Mrs. Brooker found peace again, and I feel she would surely want me to share this journal with you._

_Sincerely, _

_Judge Caleb T. Brooker"_

Kitty blinked hard, and pushed the hair out of her eyes as she sat on the floor by her bed and opened the worn book. The words jumped off of the pages and into her heart.

_**January 3**__**rd**_

_Caleb gave me this journal as a Christmas gift. This is the first day I've had the heart to open it up and take pen to paper. It's been nearly three months since my rescue and seven months since I was taken so cruelly away. Sometimes, I try to remember what my life was like before that time. But those memories have faded so fast from my thoughts that they remain in my mind shadowed as a ghostly image._

_I am so alone in this world; there is no one I can talk to. There is no one who can understand. Caleb has no idea how I feel, and thinks that just by saying everything is all right it is. _

_**January 10**__**th**_

_I spend most of my day in what used to be our guest room. Now it is my room, for the thought of sharing a bed with Caleb fills me with such fear that I can not see straight. _

_Just getting dressed is an effort, getting undressed is worse for it reminds me of the atrocities I endured. I find myself sleeping (although I do not sleep) in the same clothes I wore throughout the day, just to avoid witnessing my own nakedness. I fear for my sanity. _

_**January 15**__**th**_

_I have lost all control over my life and my emotions. I do not recognize myself. Is this what it's like to lose one's mind? I want to scream at him, at everyone, at me and yet I cannot. I pace the confines of my room as a caged animal. _

_**February 2**__**nd**_

_If only the nightmares would go away. But, they are always there, even in my wakeful hours, the dreams haunt my conscious thought. I live in fear. I wish to God they had killed me, for death would be far friendlier than this life they have sentenced me to._

_**February 5**__**th**_

_I so want the comfort of my husband's embrace. I am not so far gone that I have completely forgotten what it was like before this happened, although it seems a different lifetime, one lived by someone other than myself. Dear Caleb deserves so much better than what I've become. I see the pity in his eyes, I hear it in his voice and I push him further and further away for I would not have him know the darkness of my soul._

_**February 24**__**th**_

_I actually thought I was getting better, until something happened to remind me. What a fool I was to think I could return to any sort of normal existence. I feel nothing now, save for the pain and the panic. I can't live like this._

_**March 3**__**rd**_

_I want to cry. I want to be able to let go of this memory, but I cannot. I need release from this pain. I want hope. I long for peace. I want to forget … perhaps what I really want is death._

_**March 15**__**th**_

_I consider death quite often now. I even think of ways to accomplish the task. That dark void of death would be a welcome release. And, my dear Caleb could go on with his life, and not be sentenced to the bounds of our marital union. _

_**April 9**__**th**_

_I see the sadness in his eyes and know it is my fault. I have pushed him away, to see if he would go, but he will not leave. He says he loves me, he says he will help me through this ... but how can we get through this?_

_**April 14**__**th**_

_My life feels like a puzzle with all the pieces spread out over the table, all a jumble. How can I ever fit the pieces back together and what of those pieces irretrievable lost forever? The picture can never be whole._

_**April 21**__**st**_

_I laughed at a silly story Caleb told me, and for a brief moment I forgot to be afraid. The cloud lifted and I saw sunlight. It was just a flicker in time, but it felt so good, so right. Then, the storm settled back in on me and all was dark and bleak._

_**May 1**__**st**_

_Today was a good day. It seems like I am having more good days of late. We took a walk...just after the rain stopped...the smell of the freshly mowed hay mingled with the lilac blossoms, and it was so beautiful. I was happy, happy to be alive and happy to be with Caleb. I am finding hope and perhaps tomorrow will be another good day. _

Kitty closed the journal and clutched it to her breast. The pain of Sarah Brooker mirrored her own. If Sarah had been able to overcome the same anguish, could she? Kitty's eyes stared ahead, as if trying to fix on the image of a future filled again with hope and love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Matt Dillon sat near the front of the courtroom, his unforgiving stare fixed on the shackled man standing before him. The lawman's jaw was clenched and his hands knotted into white-knuckled fists in his lap. Pure hatred churned in his gut. Hot anger boiled within him and he thought once again he should've killed the outlaw when he had the chance.

Judge Brooker turned to the defendant, "Mr. Bonner, is there anything you would like to say in your defense before I send the jury out to decide your fate?"

The outlaw stood up and boldly declared. "I got somethin' I wanna say. I figure - I 'm a dead man, so I'm gonna tell you what I told the Marshal's woman - I'm a breed. Born of a Cheyenne woman your cavalry cut up and killed `fore I was able to do something about it. My old man switched sides by then, sort of set my style for me. Now, I killed folks for a living - but I ain't never killed no one that didn't need killing. The way I see it, that don't make me no better and no worse than the Badge. Dillon took my little brother and wired him for hanging. So I took his woman. I figured it would take a thousand like her to pay the debt you people owed me. Dillon made the deal - I just stood by it. Blood gets blood - that's the way the preacher calls it ... and to my way of thinking, the debt ain't paid. Virgil is dead - Dillon's woman is still alive." A slow evil smile spread over Bonner's face as he looked at Matt, "She may live to be a thousand - but she'll never forget what I done to her - and neither will Dillon!"

The jury was out less than an hour. The bailiff's voice rang out. "This court will come to order!"

Judge Brooker sat up, suddenly alert as the jurors filed in. He banged his gavel for effect and then asked, "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, your Honor," the foreman replied.

"The Defendant will rise," the Judge ordered. Matt watched Bonner stand unflinching as the jury, one by one proclaimed him guilty on numerous counts. "Jude Bonner, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. I hereby sentence you to hang by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."

The sound in the courtroom amplified, some folks actually cheered. Two armed guards pulled the outlaw to his feet and began escorting the shackled prisoner from the courtroom. Jude pulled them to a stop in front of Matt Dillon. He made a kind of laughing sound before his upper lip curled and then he spat in Matt's face.

Hate gained control. In one swift motion Dillon lunged for Bonner, grabbing him by the throat. Had it not been for the armed guards and Matt's long time friend Sheriff Tom Lynott at his side - he would have ended Bonner's life right there and spared the State of Kansas the expense of an execution. The courtroom erupted in momentary chaos. Judge Brooker banged again on his gavel. "Order in the courtroom! Sheriff Lynott! Escort Marshal Dillon to my chambers at once!"

Lynott grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him out of the room. "Get ahold of yourself Pilgrim!" he cautioned. "This ain't gonna do Kitty no good, you acting like this!"

Brooker concurred entering his chambers minutes later. "Matt! That was a dang stupid thing to do - and if you ever do anything like that again in my courtroom, I'll have your badge," the Judge said sternly. "you hear me? Now sit down, I want to talk to you."

Dillon took a chair, his body still held rigid with hate.

The judge poured a couple glasses of sherry and handed one to Dillon and the other to Lynott. The former finished his drink in one gulp. Matt took a sip and then looked up at Brooker.

The old judge took a deep breath and then said. "I found Mrs. Brooker's journal - the one she kept for a year or so after ... well ... after she came back to me. The thought occurred to me that maybe it would be of some help to Miss Russell. I've sent it to her."

Before Matt could think of something to say there was a knock at the door and a messenger came in from the telegraph office. "Dillon?" he asked of Lynott who'd opened the door.

Tom pointed to Matt seated in front of the Judge's desk, The courier walked over and handed him an envelope, "Marshal Dillon? This here's for you."

The Judge and Lynott waited while Matt tore open the envelope and read the telegram. "It's from Doc Adams," he explained.

"More trouble, Matt?" The Judge asked.

Dillon's jaw set, "Yeah," he replied, "but I'm going to see about setting it right."

**The** train seemed to be traveling in slow motion as Matt's mind raced through the events since the night when Bonner came to Dodge, and took Kitty as his hostage. It was time for Matt Dillon to come to terms with what Kitty had gone through. Until he did he'd be of no help to her. No more acting, and no more pretending this had never happened. He'd come to understand, if he expected her to get over this - he was going to have to acknowledge the rape to Kitty and to himself.

The train pulled into Dodge sometime after one o'clock in the morning. The town was dark and quiet - the only illumination coming from the gas street lamps. As he walked down Front Street to his office he glanced in the direction of the Long Branch and Kitty's upstairs bedroom. The building was dark and he reckoned she was already in bed.

He entered his office, put down his bags and lit the lamp by the door. He guessed tomorrow would be soon enough to say what he needed to say to her. He opened the safe and took out the bottle of whiskey he kept there. Once again he saw the strong box sitting in the far corner. Feeling a need to close the space between them he reached for the box. Maybe, looking through it would help regain his perspective. He reached for both box and whiskey and sat down at his desk. He had just opened the lid when he heard footsteps on the boardwalk outside. He looked up to see Kitty standing in the doorway. "Hello Cowboy. Mind if I come in?" She asked.

"I thought you were already in bed," he answered, standing to walk towards her.

"No ... I was just sitting in my room waiting for a light to come on over here," she shut the door and closed the space between them. "Doc told me you were coming home today."

"Sounds like you've got something on your mind," he said. She was standing in front of him now, just inches away.

"I guess I just wanted to say I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of being afraid to feel anything … seems like I keep running, but it's always there - I can't run away from it." She forced her voice to remain even, not giving in to the panic. She kept her eyes down, afraid to see what was written on his face.

He looked at her, knowing what she had been through and knew she was braver than anyone he had ever known. "Honey," he said softly, gently. "You can't out run your demons. You've got to stand firm and fight. But, you don't have to do it alone. I'll be right here beside you."

She turned to him then and let her forehead rest against his chest as his arms wrapped around her. He felt her shaking against him. "Wait ... there's more I need to say," she pulled away and turned her back to him. As she was facing his desk she absent-mindedly picked up the rusted badge lying in the box, she fingered it as she spoke, "I'm afraid you won't feel the same about me ... After what they did ... maybe I got what I deserved ... maybe ... if you knew ..." the words refused to come out right.

"Kitty. I was there with you that first night, do you remember? I took care of you, I saw what they did - and the nights after that when the fever had you. You cried out for them to leave you alone. You cried for me to come and save you - and I couldn't ... I heard what they did." He stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. "If we let what happened come between us - Bonner's won! He's won because he's taken you away from me," Matt said tenderly.

She set the rusted badge back on the desk, but now she noticed the picture. It was the same as the one she had on her dressing table. She had never known what Matt had done with his. Now here it was and she reached for it, looking at their happy faces. She glanced back to the box. It was then that she saw the blue ribbon. Her hand trembled as she lifted it, her eyes wide and heart hammering. She turned to Matt with the ribbon clutched in her hand. "Oh Matt!" This time he pulled her into his arms and she clung to him and the blue ribbon. Hot tears began to flow and she didn't try to stop them. The truth and his love washed over her like a healing balm.

It was sometime later, when her tears were spent, that he took her by the shoulders again and looked deeply into her eyes. "It may not be tonight or next week, or next month. You'll know when you're ready ... but I want you wearing that ribbon again." He put a finger under her chin, "...and when I see that ribbon in your hair..." he swallowed hard, unable to finish but she understood and nodded, smiling through her tears.

**Summer** faded into fall and things gradually got back to normal in Dodge City. The nightmares slowly released their hold on Kitty Russell. There were still nights when Bonner tried to recapture her soul - but she was in control now. She would re-read Sarah's journal on those days when she felt she must surely be going crazy. Just knowing Sarah Brooker had felt what she had felt and survived gave Kitty the strength to continue.

The end of August marked the anniversary of their first meeting. The couple celebrated with a quiet dinner in Kitty's room. He had given her a special present - the old cameo that had been his mother's. He told her the story behind it, making her cherish it all the more. She still wasn't ready to give him the gift he had hoped for, but he understood. He knew the need to be patient and give her time. Still - he longed to hold her again and hear her whisper his name.

**He** wooed her. Remembering the words of Judge Brooker, he let her know in subtle romantic ways, heretofore alien to his nature, just how much he thought of her. Prairie flowers picked on a ride home were delivered to her doorstep with a smile. "I saw these flowers and I thought of you."

A note scrawled in his masculine hand and tucked in her bookwork or slipped in the pocket of her skirt or under her bedroom door, to be discovered later. "You are beautiful." or "You make me smile." or most powerful of all, "I love you."

It had long been his habit to stop by the saloon just before closing time to share a nightcap and the events of their day and sometimes her bed. But now, it was walks in the moonlight, when the rest of Dodge was asleep, with no other demand than the holding of hands and a kiss on the forehead.

In September Matt was called out of town on business. He was concerned about leaving for he remembered the last time he had left Kitty. But she was able to spend the week at the Roniger farm and had a wonderful time. Just working side by side with Bessie and helping tend to the homey chores brought a peace into her life. She was facing her demon, she was standing her ground - and she was winning. She and Matt spent as much time together as their busy lives would afford, just talking. As is sometimes the case, the tragedy, which had pulled them apart, was now bringing them closer together. Even though it was difficult for him to hear, he encouraged her to talk about the rape and her own insecurities about her past. He told her he was proud of her and how much she meant to him. He told her just how much he needed her.

And then it was one of those warm October days that come to you like a gift. Matt, Festus and Doc were sociably enjoying their morning coffee at the Long Branch. Kitty breezed downstairs and over to the table.

She was dressed for riding. "Thought it might be a good day for a picnic, Cowboy. Care to join me?" she invited pleasantly.

"Sounds good," he replied and smiled back. She looked wonderful, healthy again. Her figure had filled out and there was a glow to her skin and bright eyes. She had plaited her thick shiny hair into a long single braid.

"Good," she beamed, "I was hoping you'd say that. I just have to take care of something in my office. I'll be right back." She gave him a saucy grin and turned on her heel.

Matt had always enjoyed watching her coming and going - but this time he did a double take. A single, slightly faded, well-loved, blue ribbon, bounced from the bottom of her braid. He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and grinned. `Yup," he thought, it's a mighty good day for a picnic."

The End


End file.
